We live behind the oldest living
telephone pole in san francisco
gray scag professing high voltage
between porcelain cups you radiate
charm from an era when
wood steel and glass
perfected the sweet sound of future
Tiles crack the stucco bursts
to reconcile new mortgages
we sit in italian light here
late afternoon with my daughter
and study that electric tree
planted and hooked to this
our play ground home

And I see what I could see
if I were newborn watching
her call that broken pole by name
electric light surging
I can feel that blood beyond my fingers
and before I can remember I am
in but not of the world

Joseph Mockus is a Bay Area poet, rock ‘n roll drummer and criminal defense attorney. A graduate of U.C. Berkeley’s Literature Department, his work has been published in the small University press.